


Die Tomorrow

by kleiner_teufel



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bite Kink, Blood, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Filler, First Time, Friendship, Hair Kink, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post S.2 Ep.6, Sypha is badass, Sypha saw it coming, What-If, angst and feelings, blossoming love, mild blasphemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleiner_teufel/pseuds/kleiner_teufel
Summary: On doomsday, Trevor’s broken heart is mended.Or Sypha fails to capture Dracula’s castle and our heroes are left to develop a B-plan, sticking together longer than expected.





	Die Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @sasu--hime for sticking with me and beta-ing the whole (huge) thing. Also many thanks to @Hyphen_L for the support and the honestly lovely feedback.

She's not going to to make it.

Sypha already knows this as the ancient mirror starts hissing, cracking at the edges of the already dilapidated surface. 

Nevertheless, she refuses to give up and widens her stance, drawing more power from what is left of her magical reserve. The castle is putting up one hell of a fight, doing whatever it takes to go against her will. She can see it jumping here and there across Braila like an overgrown and horrific grasshopper, laughing in face of her desperate efforts to coax it closer.

The enchantment she used was potent and properly performed, and the portal lived up to her expectations, but she now realizes she probably underestimated the power hidden behind the brick walls of Dracula's fortress. She's exhausted.

Her shoulders hurt tremendously and her legs are starting to tremble, her magic almost completely drained by the spell. Bolts of lightning are raining down in Braila - a collateral damage of the power she is exerting - some of them coming as far as to pass through the portal she's exploiting, releasing their dangerous energy inside the Belmonts secret library. 

The piercing hiss coming from the glass of the enchanted mirror reaches a higher peak, uncomfortable against her eardrums, and she grits her teeth painfully in the effort of remaining focused. It's all in vain anyway, as all in a sudden a deep fracture crosses the surface of the portal from the upper border to the lower and she is thrown backward by the force of her own repelled magic, accompanied by the noise of shattered glass. 

She is lucky enough the Alucard is there to catch her mid air, his strong arms closing promptly around her smaller frame in order to shield her fall with his own body. The sheer force of the broken spell is enough to send them both tumbling to the ground several meters away from the now unserviceable portal, their momentum interrupted by the sharp collision with one of the many shelves containing centuries of knowledge. 

Her arms have pins and needles and she hit the back of her head pretty hard against dark, polished hardwood, but she immediately turns to check on her companion, perfectly aware of the fact that he was the one taking the blunt of the impact in her place. 

They have broken down several ledges of the shelving and wooden splinters and molded papers lay scattered around them on the floor. Alucard seems fine though, even if his pale face is scrunched up in evident pain and displeasure. 

Instantly relieved, Sypha takes in a trembling breath, smelling the wild, metallic pang of magic permeating the stale air. She presses her lids closed and exhales tiredly, muttering a grateful ‘thank you’ that she is sure Alucard is able to hear. When she opens her eyes again, the half-vampire is still sitting by her side with an arm protectively draped around her curved shoulders, his concerned golden gaze focused on her hands. Only then does Sypha notice that the skin of her palms is wickedly burnt and charred, probably a consequence of the power she used, but the emotions swirling inside her chest are so intense that she can barely feel any pain.

From the distance, a low roar followed by the dull rumble of rolling stones resonates inside the hideout, the ceiling trembling visibly above their head.

A pang of anxiety snaps back and constricts Sypha's stomach as she remembers that Trevor is still upstairs trying to protect them, fighting alone against a horde of creatures of the night.

“Alucard,” she whispers, but the dhampir is already nimbly standing on his feet, clearly not needing her reminder.

“Be right back,” he says, disappearing toward the entrance of the library at inhuman speed.

Sypha can only sigh and hang her head as she slouches against the half destroyed bookcase that happened to be on her and Alucard's way. She would like to go upstairs and offer her support, but she sorely knows that she is currently too exhausted to be of any help, and she doesn't mean to be a hindrance for her friends.

After a few moments of surreal, unbroken silence, the uncut tension has the better on her and she forces herself to stand on unsteady legs. 

Slowly, she traces her steps backwards to the mirror that she used as a portal, one hand resting against the ornate display-cases of the library, providing stability to her irregular gait. 

Despite the spider web of cracks damaging the surface of the arcane artefact, she can still catch a glimpse of the ruined city of Braila through the shattered mirror. The place now looks more like a cemetery than a thriving village, half of the buildings destroyed, the rest of them in flames. 

Syphas's heart sinks, as she is painfully aware of the fact that the destruction she is witnessing was inadvertently caused by her own hands. The suffocating feeling only worsen when she notices that Dracula's Castle is nowhere to be seen, disappeared into the wind.

 

Alucard’s heart is beating faster than it should as he reaches the main hall of the Belmonts secret hideout, the scent of blood so heavy that the air seems saturated with it.

The monumental staircase leading underground is almost completely crumbled, stones and debris piled up everywhere.

Trevor is quietly sitting in the middle of the destruction, face downturned and hidden behind  wet strands of hair. He is covered in blood head to toes. 

Alucard’s eyes go wide in surprise and biting fear, but he forces himself to calm down as he notices that Trevor is breathing, while the many half-dismembered carcasses surrounding him are evidently not.

“About time, vampire.” 

His companion’s voice sounds rough and scratchy, but still holds the fire that he has grown used to associate with the hunter.

Alucard’s shoulders relax imperceptibly, the tension gradually seeping away from his limbs.

“We were also very busy, Sypha and I,” he responds weakly, more to keep up the pretense of detachment than anything else.

Almost challenging, Trevor’s chin lifts up slightly, allowing Alucard to take a glimpse of his blood splattered face.

“Shame. You might have lost the chance to make your wildest dream come true, today!” 

There is a hint of the usual sarcasm in the man’s voice as he gestures for the impressive pool of blood he is currently soaking in.

Alucard grimaces.

“I am not fond of rotten blood,” he snaps back, his timbre neutral. He pauses, eyes still focused on his comrade’s sour expression before adding:

“Are you injured?”

This is what he meant to ask since the very beginning of their conversation, but one thing about his relationship with the Belmont is that nothing ever go as planned.

Trevor dismisses his question with a shrug, unfolding his legs and slowly standing up.

“It’s nothing deserving concern,” he grunts, his right shoulder popping creepily as he flexes it.

Alucard’s gaze doesn’t relent, his face a mask of composed indifference as he stares the hunter down. Nobody would ever suspect of the effort he is putting into quelling his human emotions and the unpleasant flip-flops rocking his stomach.

“I can smell your own blood,” he simply puts it, his cool, matter-of-fact statement halting Trevor in his movements.

“Let me see the wound.” 

It’s more a command than a polite request, but Alucard is worried despite his better judgement and he has no time to play around.

Trevor’s steel-blue eyes grows stern and his jaw clenches. 

Alucard doesn’t say anything and simply waits for the hunter to get over whatever fuss is going on in that empty head, knowing very well that whatever he says right now could be held against him in the near future.

Eventually the Belmont sighs, probably finding a solution to his inner conflict - one he clearly doesn’t like - and he moves some hesitant steps until he’s standing right in front of Alucard, less than an arm length between them.

Focused in avoiding any possible discussion or conflict, Alucard lowers his gaze and offers a pale hand to the other man, his vampire senses instinctively knowing where the gash on Trevor’s skin is located.

The Belmont plays his game, unexpectedly docile given the situation, and puts his injured hand into Alucard’s upturned palm. 

The gash is pretty nasty and is bleeding heavily. It starts right under Trevor’s middle finger and stops short of his elbow, twirling around the delicate skin of the wrist. 

The metallic smell of his companion’s blood tastes alluring and tempting in Alucard’s nostrils, making him salivate against his will as his breath hitches inaudibly. He despises this side of himself - the monstrous animal living inside of him - and cannot help but being ashamed and disappointed at his own reactions, incapable of moving or forming words.

As close as he is to him, Trevor clears his throat, abruptly pulling him away from his self-deprecating thoughts.

“I could still wield a weapon,” the hunter states sheepishly, as if he misread Alucard’s silent scrutiny for preoccupation over his fighting abilities. 

“I was raised ambidextrous, you know.”

Alucard closes his eyes and delicately lets go of the injured limb, ignoring his thirst and the angry ball of emotions inside his chest as he attempts to clear his mind. Trevor’s wound is in need of some medication.

“I am well aware,” he concedes, because in some situations it’s only right to acknowledge someone’s talent when it is so blatantly evident. Among his many concerns, Trevor’s skills as a hunter and his ability to hold his own in a battle actually come like a relief for Alucard's heavy soul.

His companion seems surprised by the implied acknowledgement, his eyebrows drawing high on the dirty forehead.

“Let’s go get Sypha. I dislike the idea of her being alone and your cut needs to be treated urgently by someone competent.”

Alucard doesn’t linger to see Trevor’s reaction to his words, afraid of how he might feel if he does.

 

Sypha’s small hands feel soothing against his injured flesh, delicate and precise in their movements. Even if her palms are almost completely bandaged, Trevor can still see on her fingers a bit of the blackness from the magical burns she suffered while attempting to put an end to the war.

She had briefly updated him on what happened while he was upstairs fighting, explaining how their ambitious attempt to imprison Dracula’s Castle and teleport it close to them went horribly wrong. 

Trevor doesn’t blame her for their failure. In all honesty, even in light of his less than basic knowledge of the magical arts, he understands their plan was flawed and desperate to begin with.

Sypha looks a little worse for wear, though, battered both physically and mentally by the consequences of their aborted project.

Averting his gaze from the girl’s saddened face, Trevor sighs tiredly.

It's easy relating to her feelings, as nobody likes to face failure, not even when failure was listed as a probable result. Furthermore, he is well aware of the consequences their little stunt will have on mankind as a whole; Good Ol’ Dracula is surely not going to be happy about their interference, and he is someone sadly notorious all over the land for his exemplar punishments. In addition to this all, he strongly suspects that Sypha is also silently berating herself for the damage she brought upon Braila, an inconsequential guilt that she shouldn’t have to bear.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

Trevor makes an attempt at guessing and, if Sypha’s sudden stillness is anything to go by, he actually managed to frame the question.

“We are trying to do the right thing over here. You couldn’t foresee how the castle would have reacted to your spell.” 

He feels like he’s stating the obvious, but something tells him that Sypha needs to hear the facts out loud.

With steady, efficients fingers, the young woman finishes patching him up, tying at his wrist the bandage she wrapped around his forearm. 

Her eyes are still downturned and Trevor can see she is pensive, her forehead wrinkled, but she hasn’t said anything to answer his words.

When he is about to drop the subject and start conversation to distract her from her heavy-thoughts, she finally looks at him and gifts him with a small smile.

“Thank you for trying, Treffy,” she says.

Trevor blinks and then sputters at the shameful nickname, but at least Sypha’s smile finally widens into something more convincing -  _ thank God. _

“I know that you are speaking the truth, but I guess that I...” she pauses, tilting her head to the side. “...Need some time to accept it. Reality is not pretty and it just so happens that I struggle with that. I will get over it, sooner or later.”

She sounds self assured and Trevor doesn’t know much, but knows her enough not to doubt her words. 

Showing respect for her and her silent mourning, he returns her smile and decides to let her be.

Sypha seems comfortable enough to share some silence with him and she gracefully leans back to rest against the wall. 

They are sitting in a relatively clean corner of the library, an area that probably was once meant to be a studying room. In front of them a long, massive table with a matching overturned bench has certainly seen better days, and to their left there’s a niche in the wall vaguely resembling a fireplace. Whichever purpose it served originally, Sypha had lit a magical fire inside of it, attempting to chase away a bit of the chilly humidity pressing on them. 

“To be honest, I am more worried about Alucard than myself,” Sypha’s voice confesses out of the blue, taking Trevor by surprise.

He raises his eyebrows in a skeptical frown, tilting his head just enough that he can peer at the expression on Sypha’s face.

“How so?” he demands, seeing as she appears dead serious in her convictions. 

The sorceress just shrugs. 

“His delusion for our delay is written in capitals upon his face,” she says, drawing her legs toward herself and smoothly embracing her knees. 

“It’s not like I can’t understand. The person behind this genocide is his father, and the more time  passes without Alucard having a say in the matter, the more people perish at  _ his father’s hands _ ...”

Trevor never thought things under that perspective. Alucard spontaneously joined them in this crusade against Dracula, telling them he was fulfilling his mother’s last wish. He never said a word about how he personally felt about the heinous actions of the man who contributed to his very existence, nor has he spoken a word on his feelings for that parent. 

“Where is he?” he only questions, toying nervously with the fresh bandage on his arm.

Sypha turns her head to stare into the fire.

“Probably sitting somewhere with a book, trying to hide his sadness behind it.”

She says that like a doting mother, and Trevor cannot help but shake his head.

Since Sypha mentioned Alucard’s supposed anguish, some nights before, he had unconsciously started paying more attention to their comrade’s apparently cold behavior. 

If he has to be completely honest, he still feels on the edge when the vampire is around. On one end, Alucard is a creature of the night and the son of Satan’s incarnation, a beast that Trevor has been taught to fear and despise since a very young age. On the other side, anyway, he cannot deny how human the man sometimes seems, nor how lonely and melancholic he appears to be. Above all, Trevor is utterly irritated by the fact that he cannot shake away a sort of wicked fascination toward him, an emotion very different from the disgust he is supposed to experience and that he doesn't know how to justify. So no, right now Trevor doesn’t want to dwell on Alucard or how the vampire might  _ feel _ , because he has already enough problems on his own.

“You should go talk to him.”

Trevor blinks in stupor at Sypha’s words, pretty convinced he misheard what she said.

“What?”

Sypha turns to look at him with raised eyebrows, her blue eyes unrelenting and irritatingly  _ knowing _ .

Trevor sighs dramatically, curling up on the floor in a position very similar to the witch’s own, the only difference being he is openly scowling like a disappointed child.

He stays silent for a while, very aware of the magician’s pressing gaze focused on him, until it becomes painfully obvious that he is fighting a losing battle. Sypha is probably one of the most stubborn people he has ever met, and right about know - with such a good timing! - she seems very invested in forcing him to address his Alucard issues. 

“Why does it have to be me?” he grunts defeatedly, trailing his fingers through messy, unruly locks.

Sypha’s lips curl into a fond, feline smile and Trevor is left to stare, the sensation she knows something he doesn’t weighing on his stomach.

“In a way, you seem to be able to get under his skin,” she says, and it’s so absurd, so ridiculous, really, that Trevor blushes like an idiot.

Sypha chuckles lowly - he is probably making the most stupid face ever so he won’t hold it against her - then takes pity on him and turns back to the fire, letting him maintain at least a speck of his battered dignity. 

“You two are more similar than you believe,” she says, sounding genuinely amused.

Trevor doesn’t think there’s something funny in being compared to a vampire, but  _ whatever _ .

For the sake of peace he’ll go looking for that bastard.

 

Exactly as Sypha foretold, Alucard is sitting in a dark corner on the opposite side of the library, a couple of old tomes in his lap. He’s not even bothering to put up the pretense of reading them, anyway. He has his head against the cold stonewall, eyes looking into the void, seemingly lost in thought.

Trevor approaches slowly, respectfully making his presence known by stomping his boots on the floor. Alucard doesn’t turn to look at him nor acknowledges his presence, but Trevor doesn’t need it. He can feel that the vampire wants to be alone with his thoughts - why would he isolate himself that way, otherwise?

What takes him by surprise is the hurt, defeated expression on Alucard’s face.

From his standing position several meters in front of him, Trevor can freely stare, allowing his eyes to roam the pale smoothness of alabaster skin, letting them slide down a fine, exposed neck and to a sturdy lean body, gracefully curled on the ground. 

It is honestly annoying how the man can always carry himself with such a natural elegance through thick and thin, it makes Trevor want to utter some snarky remark only to rile him up. But Alucard is not reacting to his scrutiny despite being obviously aware of his disadvantaged position, so Trevor keeps his mouth shut and, for a change, decides to stay. 

His companion is clearly going through a difficult moment. Vampire or not, Trevor can’t deny that. Vampire or not, he actually likes the sassy bastard enough to desire to help him. Which is bad, but not really. They are both in this together, after all.

He thinks about Sypha on the other side of the huge hall, trying to imagine what she would say in his place.

Trevor has never been good with people, so he is not surprised he doesn’t have a fucking clue on how to deal with an apparently heartbroken vampire. And the fact that the bastard looks like an unblemished, human-sized doll honestly doesn’t help him in the slightest. It makes Trevor’s palms sweaty, because the cold, perfect beauty of him constantly reminds him he isn’t human. Even worse, it’s distracting, but he is trying his best not to jump on that train of thoughts.  _ All vampires are attractive _ , he repeats himself religiously,  _ it’s a necessity in their nature. _

Still, he finds himself walking closer to the dhampir, leaning down to be at his eye level. 

Alucard doesn’t move and Trevor doesn’t know what to say to make him feel better.

At a loss, he lets his eyes linger on the dancing shadows around Alucard’s downturned eyes, an illusion casted by the faint candlelight against long, blond lashes. 

Without putting much thought into it - thinking notoriously not being his forte - his uninjured hand reaches out to smooth out a puffy lock of hair, gently pushing it away from the attractive features and exposing the slightly pointed shell of an ear. The silky sensation of the strand against his roughened finger pads is extremely pleasant, the texture different from any hair he’d touched up to this moment. 

He does what he can to ignore that deviant thought as he slips his palm forward and gently but firmly cups Alucard’s face.

Golden irises immediately lift up to meet his, the gloomy expression of the porcelain visage  unwavering. 

They look at each other for a handful of burning seconds, Trevor desperately hoping to convey his empathetic feelings through gaze alone. He stupidly feels vulnerable and exposed, crouching in front of a creature of the night and trying to get his sympathy across without knowing the words. 

_ I am sorry, I feel you, you’re not alone _ , is it even legit to say things like that?

Alucard’s lashes flutter daintily and he adverts his honey gaze, abruptly breaking the strange connection between them. 

Trevor unconsciously holds his breath, expecting his companion to react violently and push him away at any given moment. Yet Alucard doesn’t do anything like it, unexpectedly leaning his face against Trevor’s palm, his eyes still lowered.

A silent understanding passes between them, a different form of communication, and suddenly  _ Trevor knows that Alucard knows that he knows how it feels _ .

He cannot stop the private smile faintly tugging at his lips. 

He strokes the side of Alucard’s high cheekbone before retreating his hand, curling his forefinger under the dhampir’s chin to get his attention. 

“Come sit with us, you sulky vampire,” he teases, but there’s no bite in his words.

He is under the impression that the gold of Alucard’s eyes warms up a little as the man inspects him, expression quite unreadable as per usual.

Unabashedly, Trevor wriggles the fingers of the hand he is offering directly into the vampire’s face and he feels relieved when the man accepts it.

 

When he proposed to head back to the Belmonts hold, Trevor didn’t think they were going to stay there for long. He had nursed the hope that his family’s impressive collection held the secrets to either defeat or stop Dracula - and maybe that’s still true - but finding something of any help among thousands of manuscripts and incisions has been proving more difficult and tiresome than he was prepared for.

The mirror-portal they used to locate the castle is now broken, blocked on a live image of the devastated city of Braila. Sypha insists that it must be fixed, probably both because she is tired to face the crude testament of their recklessness and because they have no other mean to guess where Dracula disappeared. 

Alucard is the one in charge of fixing the mysterious artefact since, apparently, the asshole is familiar with that particular breed of magic and also fluent in Chaldaic - and Trevor now knows that  _ no, that word is not an insult _ . 

Sypha, on her part, is desperately searching for more information about the castle, hoping to better understand witch sort of enchantment allows the grotesque thing to appear anywhere in space and time and disappear as quickly.

Trevor is bored and feels utterly unuseful. 

His childhood went to hell before he had the chance to learn to read properly and he knows nothing about magic not related to enchanted weapons. 

His companions are buried in books or trying out spells most of the time, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the melancholy that comes from being back in his destroyed family home. 

As the days go by, the situation only becomes more and more frustrating.

Their progress is unbearably slow. They barely talk to one another if not for the few words required for survival. Most of the conversation consists of Alucard and Sypha discussing a book’s translation or some weird magical theory that Trevor cannot understand.

Outside the library, it starts snowing again.

One afternoon, Trevor is spending time honing his throwing knives one by one, doing anything it takes to distract himself from suffocating thoughts of the family he lost, when he hears Sypha raising her voice. 

She and Alucard are sitting a few aisles from him, putting to use the ancient and run-down wooden table of the study room.

Trevor frowns, amazed by the high pitch Sypha’s voice seems able to reach when she is upset, and strains his ears to understand what the big fuss is about. Alucard’s voice is also higher in volume compared to his usually composed tone and they appear to be arguing passionately about some inscription that might or might not be carved in the portal of the teleporting castle. 

Trevor grimaces, deeming it wiser to keep minding his own fucking business, but he is called to attention by a harsh cracking noise followed by many aggressive thuds in immediate sequence. 

The first crash sounded suspiciously like wood breaking and Trevor is half afraid and half curious as he decides to go check what the hell happened. 

He finds the sorceress sitting peacefully on the wooden bench, several heavy looking volumes scattered everywhere in her close proximity. 

The solid table is broken in a half in front of her and all the books piled on it slid down the inclined surface to rest in a small heap on the floor. 

Alucard is nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell happened?” Trevor questions with both eyebrows raised, finding no possible explanation for the mess surrounding him.

Quietly, Sypha raises her eyes from the manuscript she’s reading.

“Guess Alucard needed a break,” she says with no particular inflection, as if the bloody vampire hadn’t just flipped out and destroyed half of the room.

Annoyance flares in Trevor’s chest like an unbidden flame and he swiftly turns, heading in the direction of the main door.

“Where are you going?” Sypha inquires behind his back, sounding mildly concerned.

“Outside. I could also use some fresh air.” he hopes that his tone is not as stern as it sounds to his own ears.

 

Trevor reaches Alucard as the vampire is wandering aimlessly among the charred ruins of the Belmont manor, the freshly fallen snow making a stark contrast against the blackened remains. He doesn’t lose any time with words of reproach; he is not sure of the exact reason why, but he is suddenly very angry. 

Unable to reason straightly and to avoid doing something stupid, he hastily shoves the irresponsive dhampir against the closest standing wall, feeling some sick satisfaction at the thud the man’s head makes when hitting the stone.

Alucard doesn’t seem in the mood to discuss either, his vampire reflexes kicking in way sooner than Trevor expected, sending the hunter tumbling to the ground with an unforgiving kick into the stomach. 

Without any time to recover, Trevor is forced to roll out of the way of a punch that was coming too close to his face, kicking his legs and nimbly standing up to face the vampire.

Alucard’s normally honey-colored eyes are glimmering bright red, glowing in the foggy mist surrounding them. 

Trevor clenches his jaw and his fists, observing him through the fumes of his sudden fury. He knows he should be wary of him, because he remembers very well what the man actually is. Even so, he cannot shake the sudden need to punch the asshole in the face. 

Which is exactly what he does, charging an angry punch and aiming for the doll-like, impassive face of the vampire.

Alucard dodges, of course he does, and elbows him in the ribs, drawing a nasty hiss from his throat. It hurts like a bitch but not enough to stop Trevor, who gains momentum and spins around, finally landing a kick at Alucard’s side.

The man’s surprised grunt is like oil poured into the flame and Trevor charges again, pushing the vampire back against the wall, clenching his hands around his throat.

“You fucker, you think you are the only one under pressure here?” he hisses through gritted teeth directly in the man’s face.

“You think you are justified in having your way, sulk and act like a constant pain in the ass only because you have some daddy issues?”

At that, Alucard reacts with a hiss, pushing him away with such a strength that Trevor’s back ends up hitting violently against the opposite wall.

“You know nothing about me or my father,” the dhampir growls, long canines exposed, and  _ when the hell had he come that close _ honestly Trevor doesn’t know.

“Fuck you,” the hunter spits, freeing himself from the hold on his cape and spinning around to regain some space.

“You also don’t know shit about me,” he mutters, and lashes forward again. 

Alucard blocks the blow without much effort.

“You just assume you are the only one suffering here,” Trevor adds on. “That’s why you feel justified to be a drama queen!” 

The vampire hesitates for half a second and Trevor finally manages to land a solid punch on that unmarred face. 

“My family died in this place!” he finds himself crying as Alucard stumbles backwards. 

“Everyone I loved has been taken from me and my name has been dragged in the dirt. I am so pathetic that I cannot even offer any help in this suicidal mission to stop your batshit father from exterminating mankind!” he is screaming himself hoarse and - for the love of God - he doesn’t know why.

Alucard is on him the next second and Trevor is pretty sure he has never been slapped so hard in his whole life.

Momentarily blinded by the pain he falls back on his ass, freezing snow seeping inside his clothes. It takes him a handful of seconds to recover, his hears ringing unpleasantly, but then he pushes himself into a sitting position, knowing better than to leave himself exposed.

Alucard is hovering over him, lips parted and eyes wide open. Trevor doesn’t wait around to see what caused that peculiar, foreign expression, but on instinct tugs him down, messing with the vampire's balance and making him fall into his lap.

He clutches the bastard from the collar of his shirt, forcing him to stay still as he charges another punch.

Then it dawns on him that something must be wrong because Alucard in not opposing any resistance, his face lowered and his body slack in Trevor’s hold. 

He stops with the fist still raised, suspicious eyes trying to get a glimpse of Alucard’s face through the thick blond hair. He can only spot the downturned corner of well-cut lips, one eye and a furrowed brow, but it’s enough to instantly dissolve Trevor’s anger, his body sagging like a withering flower.

In all honesty, Alucard looks about to cry. His eyes are back to their usual golden tone, big and liquid, his face contorted in something akin to regret. He is slouched in Trevor’s lap with his gaze focused on the hunter’s lips, shoulders curved, arms hanging.

Trevor doesn’t know what to do with himself, taken aback by the abrupt change in the other man’s demeanor, so he holds his breath and waits.

The vampire sits motionless, his weight a concrete presence on Trevor’s thighs. They both stays silent for an amount of time that seems to go on forever, until Alucard mutters a faint ‘I am sorry’ and damn, he really sounds like it.

Slowly, Trevor lowers his still raised arm and releases his grip on the vampire’s shirt, feeling as if someone just kicked him in the ribs (again).

He is under the impression that he is also expected to say something, so he goes for the first thing crossing his confused brain.

“I am also sorry,” he mutters awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to say what I said.” 

And it’s the truth. Now that his annoyance disappeared, he feels like a total idiot knowing that he started a fight only because he needed to vent some pent up frustration.

He licks his bottom lip in a nervous gesture and only then notices that he is bleeding, a superficial cut splitting the skin right in the middle of it.

_ Oh. So that’s what Alucard’s been watching. _

Now distinctly aware of the blood staining his chin, Trevor gulps down the extra saliva in his mouth. Despite being very sensible of Alucard’s real nature he doesn’t feel wary. He is more weirdly embarrassed and self conscious, if anything. 

“I think we are all pretty stressed out and in need of some rest,” he says, hoping to put an end to the uncomfortable situation.

Alucard nods slightly, but he is still looking at Trevor’s split lip as if he is really sorry about it.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s just a scratch. Plus, I sort of deserved it,” the hunter mutters.

He doesn’t want Alucard to feel guilty over something he pretty much asked for.

Quietly, hesitantly, the vampire’s hand moves forward, the pale skin exposed. Elegant fingers curl under Trevor’s chin, lifting his face slightly upwards, and a thumb presses down gently on the small cut. 

The hunter’s lips unconsciously part in surprise and he is sure he is blushing idiotically, because he feels his cheeks aflame. 

Alucard’s pad is icy-cold but it doesn’t come as a surprise, given they have been scuffling outside in the cold for a good half an hour.

Honey-colored eyes lift up to met his, and Trevor stops breathing, trying to focus on the tactile sensation against his lip in fear of doing something incredibly stupid. 

The expression on the vampire’s face softens; Trevor cannot tear his gaze away from those unnatural pools of gold, almost as if under a spell. He feels his heartbeat hammering in his ears and,  _ crap, he is gonna die if he doesn’t start breathing again soon _ but…

A sad smile on his lips, Alucard tilts his face to the side and lowers his gaze, leaving Trevor to gasp like a stranded fish for some needed oxygen. The thumb disappears and so does the weight of the vampire from the hunter’s lap.

“We better get back inside,” the familiar voice says. “You are getting very cold.”

That’s not actually how Trevor feels but he guesses it’s better not to tell.

He is pretty confused about what just happened between Alucard and him, but he is sure something important did.

As he watches the dhampir’s retreating back through the flurrying snowflakes that have started falling again, ass still freezing on the ground, a bizarre pull at his chest puts in motion Trevor’s blabbering mouth.

“Alucard,” he calls, before his brain gets the chance to start functioning again.

The man halts in his tracks and turns to look at him, almost appearing ethereal in the frosted landscape.

“I know I am shit at talking but I am not that bad at listening, you know.” 

It is honestly an ill-concealed offer and yeah, Trevor’s cheeks are flaring again.

The vampire studies him, face unreadable, then resumes his march to the underground lair. 

He doesn’t offer any answer.

Trevor doesn’t mind because he didn’t expect one.

 

Some days after the incident outside, Trevor awakes from his night slumber to find Alucard crouched beside him. Confused, he blinks away some of the residual sleep, stretching his sore back like a cat as he tries to figure out how many hours of rest he managed to get. 

The light is faint in the corner he nested in and Sypha doesn’t seem to be around. 

Alucard’s glimmering eyes are regarding him with some sort of expectancy and Trevor can only hope nothing irredeemable has happened in the few hours he closed his tired eyes. 

As he lays there waiting for the worst, the vampire keeps quiet, no tragic news or alarming announcement coming out from the lips that the man keeps worrying with his teeths. 

Slightly more awake, Trevor notices that his companion’s body language speaks of tension, which is utterly unusual from his part. 

His curiosity stirred, Trevor pushes himself up on his elbows, trying to find some explanation for the vampire’s strange behavior. 

It takes a little of silent contemplation to establish nothing seems out of order and only then Trevor’s brain kicks in, timidly suggesting that maybe -  _ maybe _ \- Alucard came seeking him because he actually fancied his company.

The thought is absurd and improbable, really, but given that it’s the only option he managed to come up with, he’s going to give it a chance.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he skirts aside on the makeshift mattress he created from a rug, raising the covers he was lucky enough to find in a silent invitation.

“Lay down, vampire,” he mutters, stubbornly keeping his gaze focused on anything but his companion. 

The underground lair is freezing at night and he dislikes the idea of Alucard squatting beside him in the cold, studying him from above as he is comfortably cocooned in the blankets.

There is a moment of downright embarrassing silence, and Trevor is already regretting his words - almost - when Alucard’s confused voice whispers 

“I don’t need to rest.”

Eyes shifting to the vampire, Trevor almost snorts at Alucard’s genuinely puzzled expression. 

Confidence floods back to him as he realizes he is probably making a big fuss over nothing and he cracks a smile to the bewildered dhampir.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says confidently, shaking the covers with the arm that’s keeping them uplifted.

Alucard still looks perplexed and, damn, Trevor is quickly dispersing all the delicious body-heat that he managed to hold together with the additional help of the blankets.

Finally, the vampire rests his knees on the floor and gracefully crawls in Trevor’s arranged nest, the hunter unceremoniously tugging him against his body and covering both of them with the moth-eaten blankets.

Nobody speaks for a long time and the cold that was making Trevor shiver is gradually chased away by a new kind of warmness.

The hunter didn’t lie when he said he is totally helpless at making conversation; he grew up alone and many events of his past taught him to be wary of people. He doesn’t have any close friend - or well, he didn’t before Sypha came into the picture, at least - and he generally prefers speaking with people only when it’s absolutely necessary - for booze, food, sex and eventually information - without revealing anything about himself.

He doesn’t know if he is supposed to say something - or even what the hell he is supposed to say - as he lays there with a vampire - _a_ _vampire_ , _Dear_ _Lord_ \- tucked against his right side.

Emotional constipation and hulking difficulties in opening up with others aside, Trevor is not immune to empathy and he remembers very well his companion has seemed to be distressed and upset recently. So he does the only thing that used to soothe him when he was a kid and still had people he could count on, and starts trailing his fingers through soft blond locks.

At first, Alucard’s body goes rigid against his, but as minutes tick by and Trevor starts enjoying the silkiness against his fingers, he gradually relaxes and leans into the caresses.

“Who did you take the blond from?” it’s an absent-minded question and the hunter is the first to be surprised by the inquiry coming from his mouth.

Alucard’s answer is immediate.

“My mother,” he murmurs, sighing as Trevor’s fingers graze his scalp.

A small smile spreads on Trevor’s lips against his will.

“And what was she like?” he questions, shifting in a more comfortable position with the dhampir’s head leaning against his shoulder. Alucard had told him and Sypha something about his deceased mother before, but Trevor never bothered to actually listen.

“She was brilliant and kind and beautiful,” the vampire’s voice whispers quietly. “She was very patient with me and all the people that came by, seeking for her help. As a medic, she was centuries ahead in time compared to the healers and witches we have in many villages.”

Trevor hums, trying to embody all this positive qualities in a single person.

“Almost sounds too good to be true…” he praises with a contemplative tone. “Certainly not the kind of woman that I expected to stand beside a vampire.”

Alucard moves against him and Trevor feels a hand clutching the side of his shirt.

“My father hasn’t always been as you know him. He tried to be a good man for her.”

It’s said without any kind of reproach and maybe with a pang of nostalgia.

Trevor raises both brows but doesn’t comment on it. All the notions he was given on vampires are strongly against the idea of them being able to love, care or show any mercy. _But_ _yet_ _here_ _he_ _lays_ , _cuddling_ _a_ _vampire_ _as_ _the_ _guy_ _speaks_ _fondly_ _about_ _his_ _loving_ _family_.

“How was your mother, instead?” Alucard says.

The question catches him by surprise. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Trevor makes an effort to retrieve buried memories of his childhood, already feeling the burn of sorrow as he brings some of them forward in his mind.

“She was a blonde too, and totally badass. Not exactly a doting mum. She was the one teaching me most of the things I know about hunting monsters.” 

He bites his tongue, already afraid he’s told too much.

Alucard stays quiet for a while.

“Was she your only family?”

Trevor presses his eyes closed.

“No. Father passed away when I was too young to remember, but I had an older brother and a younger sister. They all died in the fire that destroyed the mansion.” he didn’t mean to tell this, but there it was. The ugly truth laid bare. 

“Mum only managed to get me clear cause I was sleeping beside her.”

She later got back inside the burning house trying to save his siblings and never made it outside again. 

Tears sting the back of Trevor’s eyes as he remembers the charred bodies he had to bury, but he has no intention of letting them out. That was the past.

Alucard stays respectfully silent by his side, almost as if he could perceive his mourning. 

Trevor never told this story to a living soul.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the vampire gently says, a little too close to Trevor’s neck to be considered safe, but the hunter is beyond caring.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, curling his fingers around blond locks. 

“You also had to watch your mother burn; you are burdened enough by your own grief to also care about mine.”

He is met by a defeated sigh.

“At least I was eighteen when it happened...” it’s barely a whisper, but enough to distract Trevor from the melancholy that threatened to take his heart.

“Oh,” Trevor murmurs, his mind putting two and two together. The new piece of information is interesting, really.

Alucard lifts his head to peek at him, probably made suspicious by the baffled tone.

“You’re actually the youngest of us, then,” Trevor offers as an explanation.

“And here I thought you were some wise, dusty, centuries-old vampire.”

Alucard’s answering frown is honestly hilarious and Trevor has to stifle a chuckle. 

“Also,” the hunter continues, because making fun of the other is chasing away the sadness, causing him to feel lightheaded. “I expected your body to be cold. That’s what the family bestiary taught me about vampires…”

The frown on the dhampir’s face turns into an offended grimace.

“I am only half!” he scolds, almost sounding irritated, and Trevor’s grin is now so wide he feels pain in his cheeks.

“I see,” the hunter says, pretending to indulge him. “You are slightly on the cool side but definitely alive there…”

The cuddling has resumed without Trevor’s conscious mind giving command.

There is a small pause, then Alucard’s expression morphes from a scowl into something softer, curious, almost seductive.

“Does it bother you?”

Trevor’s fingers halt midway down a golden strand.

“You mean you being warm in general or you warming up my makeshift bed?” 

The question is intentionally formulated with a pun, because now Trevor is sort of curious to discover how far he can tease before being threatened with sudden death.

Contrary to anything the hunter expected, the other man’s mouth tilts into a mischievous smirk.

“Both.”

Saying that Trevor is taken aback would be an understatement, but nonetheless he doesn’t let the surprise show on his face. 

_ Are they truly flirting, here, or is it just his mind playing tricks on him? _

“Neither of those things bother me,” he answers and he is pretty shocked to recognize that it’s true. Feeling slightly exposed, he adds on 

“I still hate you.”

Alucard smiles and lays back down against his shoulder.

“Yeah, I can see you do,” he mutters, sounding amused.

Trevor actually pouts, feeling called out.

“You are a vampire and I am a vampire hunter, there is no way we can get along,” he states matter-of-factly, his fingers moving yet again.

“Actually, as much as I try, I cannot seem able to hate you,” the vampire’s voice softly says, and he sounds honest and vulnerable against Trevor’s chest.

The hunter should probably exploit this moment of weakness to make a joke or a sassy remark, but nothing comes to his mind.

“That’s pretty risky,” he comments in a light tone, but the implications are actually worrisome.

Alucard shuffles against him, almost as if he’s trying to hide.

“It is, indeed,” he murmurs.

Nobody speaks after that.

 

Standing by his promise, Alucard manages to repair the magical mirror. 

He finds his father’s castle in the outskirts of a city he recognizes as Craiova, in the western part of the region, a five to six day journey from their current position when going fast. 

Despite the vampire’s many attempts at restoring the portal’s original abilities, the mirror still doesn’t allow the passage of any physical object, which opens up a debate on how to reach the castle’s location before Dracula decides it’s time to move again. 

Even in the off chance Sypha finds a way to perfect the teleportation spell, their previous attempt at trapping the cursed manor went downhill hard enough to ascertain the ancient portal doesn’t have enough stability to sustain the required amount of magic. 

Empty handed as they are, a tensed brain-storming of six hours ensues, until Sypha comes forth with an ancient, patched-up book that probably weighs more than herself and a blinding smile plastered on her face.

“We’re gonna fool the old bat!” she chants, dropping the volume gracelessly on the table Trevor rudimentary fixed. 

A cloud of dust emerges from the ragged leather cover of the monstrous thing and Trevor and Alucard exchange a half-skeptical, half-fearful gaze, steadying themselves for the catastrophe that’s likely to come. 

“This is a book of illusion spells,” the sorceress goes on explaining, flipping energetically through the yellowed pages. 

“We now know the castle can't be moved against its will, which is disgraceful, but not the end of the world. Let’s change approach and take advantage of this ‘intent’ the thing seems to possess. Nobody says we cannot convince it the castle is moving when it isn’t, for one...”

Trevor can only stare dumbfounded as Alucard’s face lightens up and the man briskly walks closer.

“Do you think you can do that?” he asks, his golden eyes two burning embers.

Sypha diverts her own gaze from the thick scribbles to meet the dhampir’s dead on. There’s such a determination in her irises that it could probably set the whole hold aflame.

“An illusion spell requires a lot less magical energy than a spell based on willpower.” A devilish grin curls her lips, giving her a possessed appearance. 

“You can bet your pretty ass I can do this, sassy boy.”

Trevor doesn’t understand shit of what they are about to do, but there’s enough swearing going on to make him feel confident in his friend’s decision.

 

It turns out the plan is a lot less exciting than Trevor hoped, with Sypha needing the romanian or latin  translations to figure out the coptic volume of spells. 

It is not something Trevor could offer his help with, so he’s been following Alucard around the library for a solid three hours now, acting as a pack-mule and bringing all the useful books the vampire finds back to the busy sorceress. _Hurrah_ _for_ _his_ _skills_ _as_ _a_ _man_ _of_ _action_.

Silence rules the roost in the underground lair, not doing shit to distract him from his annoying feelings of helplessness.

Alucard has been moving swiftly from one aisle to the other, his eyes efficiently skimming over the spine of the countless books. He delicately picks up the manuscripts when he thinks they could be related to their research, and reads through the pages for a while before giving them to Trevor or putting them back into place.

“Never thought I would say this, but I wish I could read...” Trevor murmurs, leaning above the damphir’s shoulder and peering uselessly at what the man is examining.

His impressive blond mane messily collected into a bun, Alucard tilts his face slightly to meet his eyes. His expression is pensive, but there is a faint smile gracing his lips, softening the otherwise severe appearance.

“If we survive this sortie, I could consider teaching you,” he says, his attention automatically shifting back to the book in his hands.

Trevor is left  dumbfounded by both the kind offer and the implications behind it.

_ If we survive,  _ he muses, the thought leaving a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

The tranquility is broken by the cheering squeal of Sypha’s voice, perfectly audible in spite of the distance separating them.

Trevor and Alucard have barely the time to exchange a glance before a loud explosion shakes the Belmonts hold to its core.

“Guess this isn’t Sypha’s handiwork,” Alucard murmurs, immediately dropping the volume he’s holding.

“Oh please, not again,” Trevor can only pray as the vampire vanishes from sight at inhuman speed.

The roar that echoes into the hold is probably meant to mock him.

Promptly gripping the Morning Star, the hunter proceeds to brightly curse the Lord.

 

When he meets the first assailant, Trevor immediately knows they are screwed. 

No creature of the night is able to terrify a Belmont under normal circumstances, no matter how depraved or monstrous the fucking beast is. This time around things are different though, because Trevor is not alone trapped in the Belmonts hold and they are being attacked by a fucking _horde_ _of_ _vampires_. 

An entire _army_ _of_ _vampires_ dressed in white and black shiny armor, outfitted with swords, spears, claws and teeths, appear to be descending in the underground hideout like the proverbial ‘ _death_ _from_ _above_ ’.

Years of training kick in despite the undiluted panic seeping into his heart, and Trevor’s body moves on autopilot as he throws and collects the Morning Star with deadly accuracy, the chain of the weapon hissing and dancing around him.

Obviously, the last attack of the Night Horde has made them aware their hiding position was at risk. They had profusely debated leaving the hold, but decided to stay out of necessity: they needed a plan to defeat Dracula and no other place in the world held as much knowledge on the matter as the one they were already in. 

Among the possible outcomes they weighed, they never really considered Dracula taking the matter into his own hands, anyway. _Which_ _was_ _very_ _stupid_ _of_ _them_ , Trevor thinks as he is choking a bulky vampire with the holy chain. 

Alucard is Dracula’s bloody son. If the old vampire has received word of his son’s betrayal,  _ of course he would take the situation personally _ . 

The body in his arms stops resisting and crumbles to the floor in a heap after the sickening crack of broken bones. Trevor immediately jumps over it, heading downstairs, already seeing the flames rose by Sypha’s magical spells. 

Worry is chewing relentlessly at his stomach. 

It’s not like he’s doubting his companion’s skills all in a sudden - he saw with his own eyes the extent of Alucard and Sypha’s talents - but Trevor knows that, if Dracula is really coming after them right now, the Belmont hold is going to be their grave. 

_ They are not ready. _

“Sypha!” he calls, jumping over a railing, down to the lower floor. 

The sorceress turns to look at him wide eyed, a nasty cut already adorning her pretty face. With a whip of the Morning Star, Trevor quickly takes down a couple of enemies closing on her.

“We gotta get out of here!” 

The girl nods, fingers moving with precision to cast an ice enchantment and instantly freeze a dangerous felon on the spot.

“Where is Alucard?” Trevor screams above the noise of the raging battle, but his question receives immediate answer as the body of an enemy is tossed against an incoming group of soldiers so hard that it topples them over like bowling pins.

“Always a showoff!” 

Desperate times or not, habits die hard and Trevor’s snarky comments help him to cope with the tension. 

Alucard raises a fine eyebrow at him, but his face is actually showing apprehension. Man, if even the vampire is becoming emotional about this,  they must be _utterly screwed._

“They are too many,” Trevor yells, dodging the stroke of a longsword and retaliating with a punch in the face.

“Agreed. Cornered here underground we are definitely in a position of disadvantage,” Alucard says, cutting two or three vampires neatly in a half with a single downward blow. “We are going to be overwhelmed.”

There is a hard note in his tone and Trevor realizes with slight surprise that it must be preoccupation.

“Overwhelmed my ass,” the hunter growls, rage and determination coiling in his stomach. “Maybe a vampire will fuck me up one day,” he murmurs, half a grin splitting his face at the casual reference. “...but certainly _not_ _today_!” 

He stakes the closest vampire-soldier with his sword, then takes down the following with a throwing knife. He barely gets a second to spot the small, bemused smile on Alucard’s face before the man disappears, and if the screams of agony further down the hall are to be taken as a clue, he went to clear up the path for them.

“Sypha, let’s go!” he incites, but the sorceress is already running ahead of him along the aisle, giant spikes of ice blossoming from the floor like deadly flowers as she proceeds. 

Trevor is hot on her heels, making sure to have their back as they retreat toward the main chamber.

The most annoying thing about fighting vampires is probably that gravity is purely a twisted opinion for them; Trevor has to use a couple of his good tricks to get rid of a particularly stubborn fellow, who kept springing above them with a saber and spinning like a damned tornado. The confrontation leaves him with a nasty cut on his left shoulder - nothing new there - and a wicked sense of satisfaction as the bastard is caught by the Morning Star square in between the eyes, resulting in a very spectacular explosion.

Struggling, he and Sypha manage to exit the library, reaching the main hall and what is left of the monumental staircase heading outside. 

Alucard is right there fighting alone against a group of their enemies, straining to keep them all at bay, when Sypha decides to step in and even the score, roasting half or more of their unwelcome company with the mother of all fireballs.

“Holy shit, woman!” Trevor praises her, but it’s likely too early to claim victory.

Vampires are still raining from above like it’s fucking doomsday and it doesn’t matter how many of them they could kill; they will still be outnumbered.

As Trevor is lost contemplating their possibilities, a female vampire appears out of nowhere and lunges at Sypha, violently throwing her against the crumbled parapet of the stairs. Trevor is running to her aid the next second, the Morning Star already hissing in the air and aiming for revenge, but the female assailant vanishes, reappearing on the other side of the hall in front of Alucard.

Sypha appears to be shaken but in one piece, already trying to stand on her feet. Trevor offers her a helping hand, alert eyes still focused on the regal-looking woman dressed in a long red gown who’s scrutinizing their friend with ill-concealed curiosity. 

All the vampire soldiers in the room have stopped their assault, composedly retreating in the shadowy corners as if given the command.

“Carmilla of Styria,” Alucard acknowledges the woman quietly, evidently familiar with the vampire.

“You still look a lot like your mother, Adrian,” she offers back, and her tone doesn't hide her disapproval.

Trevor doesn’t know who the crazy bitch is but he can imagine she is likely someone high up in the vampires hierarchy. That simple fact, combined with the way she is staring down at Alucard, almost as if she despises the man’s very existence, is making Trevor’s palms itch with the need to hurt her.

“Belmont,” Alucard calls him, almost as if he was reading his thoughts. “I would like you to take Sypha and walk out of here, now.”

The hunter’s eyes go wide at the unexpected request, but he doesn’t get the time to voice his displeasure. In the blink of an eye, Alucard appears in front of him, sword raised, parring a deadly strike of this  _ Carmilla _ that would have slit his throat otherwise. 

“Trevor,” Alucard says again, and it’s the closest to pleading the dhampir has ever sounded. The fact that he used Trevor’s first name is testament enough of how much he wants him and Sypha out of the way.

So the hunter sucks in a trembling breath, takes a hold of the sorceress’ hand and starts running up the crumbling stairs, literally dragging Sypha behind him like a ragdoll.

“Trevor, what the fuck do you think you are doing!” the girl is screaming, clearly resenting him, but he doesn’t stop his furious peacing, so she is forced to repair the missing steps in the ramp with her ice magic.

“Trevor!” she cries again, sounding extremely distressed, and Trevor can hear battle noises coming from underground. “We cannot leave him there!”

No, _ they can’t. _

Gritting his teeth, the hunter keeps on tugging her, manhandling her slim frame behind the charred remains of the manor. 

He is pleased to discover their horses have survived unarmed this second attack, safely sheltered in the stables of the estate.

Sypha is crying, liquid drops of sorrow running down her bloodied cheeks and mixing with the dirt, but Trevor doesn’t have time to soothe her now. He lifts her up unceremoniously, as if she’s made of feathers, and sits her on the back of the gray mare.

“Ride east to the creek and then follow it north. You’ll find a village perched on a waterfall.”

Sypha sniffles, regarding him with eyes full of sorrow and betrayal.

“What the hell does that mean?” she whisper-screams, doubtlessly confused by his behavior.

“It means we will meet you there,” Trevor says, standing on his toes to grab her hand and squeeze.

“I promise. Just give me some time to get your floating vampire Jesus.”

 

Both Alucard and Carmilla are already messed up when Trevor makes his way back underground. The female vampire is bleeding from a deep cut on her right forearm and the dhampir’s white shirt is stained in red around the waistline.

Carmilla is the first one to notice his return, a tilted sneer on her face and her ice-cold eyes focused on Trevor as she relaxes her fighting stance.

The evident change in her demeanor prompts Alucard to turn and follow the line of her gaze to her new object of interest, and the look on the dhampir’s face suggests he isn’t exactly pleased with what he is seeing.

“What are you doing back here?” the blond man inquires in a cold voice. 

Before Trevor gets the chance of giving Alucard a piece of his mind, the female vampire interjects in his place.

“Looks like he chose to be the last of the Belmonts,” she says, sounding baffled and amused at the same time.

The hunter grits his teeth and tightens his grip on the Morning Star, walking forward with his back straight until he is standing by Alucard’s side.

He feels Alucard’s eyes on him and somehow perceives his worry and his irritation, but he has no intention to back down.

He won’t leave his friend alone to die miserably only to have his own life saved. It's sort of against his personal moral - even if ‘moral’ is probably a great big word for a Belmont.

Seeing that the hunter has come back to stay, Carmilla points her sword in his direction, a common courtesy to challenge someone into a duel.

“Where is your chivalry, young man?Isn't it a bit unfair, two against one?” she taunts, her grin now definitely entertained.

With hundred of eyes focused on him, Trevor plays cool, shrugging his shoulders with indifference. 

“A full blooded vampire and her army against a half-breed and a disgraced hunter?” he says, eyes meeting Carmilla’s without any trace of fear, one of his custom bragging smiles curling his lips. 

“I say we are even.”

Hell breaks loose then. 

The damn vampire is fucking fast and, as Trevor easily predicted, all her minions also joined the party. The hunter tries to keep focused as he dodges, aims and strikes as fast as he can, back to back with Alucard, the noise of metal clashing against metal almost deafening him. 

The vampire soldiers are actually more of a nuisance than a real threat, predictable and sort of messy in their attacks, but Carmilla is another thing entirely.

The well hooned stiletto of the vampire bites into Trevor’s skin repeatedly, always striking when he’s wrong footed, taking him off balance. The hunter suspects she is merely toying with him, since she hasn’t hit him deep enough to seriously injure him or aimed for any vital spot so far - and he knows better than to believe it casual. 

Annoyed, he whips the Morning Star and spins it like a lazo, taking out all the minor enemies in a four meters radius.

Carmilla is on him after that, and Trevor only has a millisecond to meet her predatory gaze and realize she is not playing around anymore. 

Eyes widened in disbelief, he contracts his muscles and steers himself for the pain he is sure is to come, hoping it would either kill him on the spot or leave him with enough dignity to stand.

Only, it doesn’t come.

Lowering his wild eyes, Trevor finds Alucard’s pale hand wrapped around the blade originally aimed to his chest. 

The tip of the stiletto had pierced through the dhampir’s palm - the wound looking incapacitating and painful, with a good ten centimeters of the thin sword sticking out very close to the wrist -  but the dhampir hasn’t let out a sound, nor do his fingers seem inclined to relent.

Gradually, the annoyed snarl deforming Carmilla's features morphs into exhilaration. She chuckles coldly, her icy-eyes sliding on Alucard. 

Disheveled as she is, she looks like a maniac, laughing by herself of a joke she solely thinks funny.

“Alucard,” she beams in the middle of her giggles. “Looks like you're actually more similar to your father than you let on!” she openly mocks him.

The man in question keeps his mouth shut, but Trevor has honestly had enough of this dramatic little scene. 

Uncoiling the Morning Star, he spins on himself and creates an angle to hit Carmilla straight on the right side of her face.

The force of the hit is enough to unbalance the vampire, shocking her, and she loses her hold on the stiletto, stumbling to the side.

She immediately recoils and turns to Trevor, hissing like a wild cat, looking like a bloodthirsty beast in a human body. 

When she springs on the hunter to seek revenge, he is prepared, short sword in one hand, whip in the other. They start dancing around each other in a blur of lunges and parries.

She is deadly, aggressive, and Trevor is tired, but he manages to land a couple of nasty blows.

Right when he is starting to believe he could overpower her, the vampire dissolves in a flock of bats, the noise of thousands flapping wings dulling the hunter’s hearing, his vision clouded. 

She reverts to her corporeal form out of nothing, slamming him against the wall with the force of a horse's carriage, a clawed hand curled around his throat. Trevor distinctly hears his ribs crack from the impact and is left gasping, air knocked out of his lungs. 

Judging from the rapturous expression on Carmilla’s face, she will take immense pleasure in choking him to death and/or snapping his neck, now.

Desperately, the hunter tries to wiggle out of her hold, both hands clutching and scratching at her wrist in hopes to get some air into his lungs, but everything seems useless.

_ Well damn. Looks like the bloody, half deformed mug of that undead bitch will be the last thing he sees before the eternal slumber. _

There is a prolonged pause in which Trevor basically waits for the moment he’ll pass out, his vision blackening at the edges, until suddenly oxygen flows back into his system, giving him a mindblowing sense of high.

His legs give out under him and he slides down against the wall, his body wrecked by a coughing fit. 

It takes some effort but he manages to peer up at his aggressor, finding her face apparently frozen in agony, with blood pouring out of her mouth and eyes. Alucard is standing behind her, still holding the hilt of the sword he staked her with.

As the blade is withdrawn, Carmilla and all her minions magically dissolve in an enormous black cloud of noctules, squealing and lifting up into the dark sky.

“Crap, I missed,” Alucard murmurs, and Trevor’s nasty cough turns into laughter.

 

It’s fairly late at night when they manage to reach the village on top of the waterfall. It takes a long and uncomfortable ride, two grown-ass men on a single horse, but Trevor would say he’s done worse.

Thank God Sypha has already found a place for them to rest, somehow convincing the matronly looking innkeeper to rent them a couple of rooms despite the late hour.

The sorceress has been overtly happy to see them - in one piece, nonetheless! -, hugging and kissing them both as they sauntered into the small village with their gelding on the rope. 

Trevor has later received a piece of her mind for forcing her to leave them behind, but honestly, he would do the same again - and gladly take a second beating from her.

Now Sypha’s eyes are struggling to stay open as she lays in bed in one of the rooms they have been given, and Trevor, hair still wet from the bath he just took, patiently waits for her to fall asleep.

As her breath evens out into soft slumber, he stands up from the creaky chair he was perched upon and gestures for Alucard to follow him in the adjoining chamber.

He closes the door behind their back gently, careful not to wake the sorceress up, then leans against it, arms crossed at his chest.

“You're not healing,” he states, his tone neutral.  _ It’s not a question _ .

For a second, Alucard seems taken aback by his assumption and he opens his mouth - likely to deny the claim. He then probably reconsiders it as nothing comes out, the dhampir lowering his head to avoid eye contact. 

It’s not like Trevor could have missed it; on average, the dhampir's injuries completely disappear within a couple of hours, yet he bathed last and the water was slightly pinkish from blood. Plus it’s fairly difficult to ignore the way Alucard’s still limping, carrying himself in an unusual, unrefined way so as not to strain the wounds. 

Alucard keeps quiet, stubbornly avoiding meeting Trevor’s inquisitive gaze.

“When was the last time you fed?” the hunter asks, gaining a shrug as an answer.

“Yesterday, with Sypha and you.”

Trevor closes his eyes and sighs.

“Don’t play naive with me,” he murmurs, still focused on his companion, acutely aware of the man’s uneasiness. “That’s not what I was asking about. You can try to deny your nature as much as you want, but I know what you need,  _ vampire _ .”

Alucard pathetically deflates under his gaze, and it would be comical to see him doing it, under different circumstances. He looks defeated and beaten, but Trevor doesn’t relent.

“When was the last time you fed?” he inquires again.

The dhampir raises his eyes for a second, shoulders still sagged as if he would like to curl up on himself.

“In Gresit, shortly before leaving.”

That’s actually plenty of time ago.

Trevor frowns, his mind working to find the best way to go about this.

“How often are you supposed to feed, ideally?”

“I don’t need blood that often. I am only half-breed.” 

The dhampir’s tone is cold and he’s avoiding eye contact again.

A little smile creeps on Trevor’s lips. It’s pretty obvious that Alucard is struggling, the conversation making him feel out of place and self conscious, but it cannot be avoided.

“Don’t lie to me,” he admonishes, but his voice is soft. 

Looking like a kicked puppy, Alucard groans.

“The more, the better,” he confesses, barely a whisper. “But I can do fine with once every few days.”

It’s more or less as Trevor imagined. He scratches his forehead, slightly uncomfortable with what he’s about to ask.

“Can you feed without killing?”

It’s a delicate topic, he’s very aware. 

“Of course I can,” the vampire’s tone is slightly stingy, almost as if he is offended by the implications of Trevor’s question.

The hunter’s heart immediately increases in tempo.

To be completely honest, he had already made up his mind on what was to be done before this whole roundabout conversation, but there is a part of him still completely frightened by his careless decision. 

“Let’s do it, then,” he murmurs, removing himself from the door and doing his best to look and sound self assured. His hands are sweating and his blood rushing, but he really hopes Alucard won’t notice.

Face made even paler by surprise, the dhampir’s widened eyes follow him, full of disbelief.

“...What?” he whispers, hands balling into fists.

Trevor exhales, making a conscious effort to steady his voice.

“Listen. I don’t like this more than you do,” he admits, walking further into the room to present the vampire with his back. “...but you need blood and we lack alternatives. Letting you roam through a small, superstitious village where everybody knows everyone and their mother doesn’t sound like an option, and Sypha is exhausted. So it has to be me.” 

He says all of this matter-of-factly, sharing part of the considerations which pushed him to offer himself in the first place. It doesn’t change the fact that what he is about to do goes against everything he’s been taught during long years of training and also against his personal beliefs.

“Trevor,” the vampire calls him, his voice sounding cautious but secure. “This is not necessary.”

The hunter turns to look at him, noticing the tensed posture and the new spots of fresh blood blossoming on the vampire's thin shirt. Alucard must be suffering significantly, but he sure is hella good at downplaying it.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he reproaches, his gaze stern. 

Boldly, he reaches for the small buttons of his doublet, working them open from the neck down.

His heartbeat hasn’t slowed down one bit and he is positively terrified, but a Belmont never goes back on their word.

“Is the neck the best access for you?” he asks, more for the sake of conversation than for information. _He_ _knows_ _the_ _answer_.

Alucard looks completely bummed, but his golden eyes are glued to the skin being exposed at Trevor’s collarbone.

“Yes.” 

The vampire’s voice has lowered, sounding raspy and thickened.

He turns, forcing his interested eyes away from Trevor.

“This is so wrong...” he murmurs, the unusual strain of his tone failing to hide his shame. “But since you’ve  hidden a silver dagger at the bottom of your trousers, I guess you are being serious about it.”

Embarrassment for being caught red-handed sets Trevor’s cheeks aflame.  _ He was sure nobody was watching him when… _

“It’s not like I don’t trust you,” he rushes to explain, and it’s partly true. “You’ve saved Sypha’s and my ass so many times that I legit lost count. It’s just--”

Alucard turns to lock eyes with him, the sorrow and mortification in his golden irises effectively silencing him.

“Don’t bother, hunter,” he says, a sad smile playing on his lips. “I do understand.”

Feeling weirdly guilty for making the other man even more uncomfortable, Trevor fidgets nervously.

“So how do we do this?” he finally asks, genuinely at a loss about how to proceed from now on.

The vampire hesitates, but in the end he’s forced to relent.

“It’s better for both of us if you sit down,” he instructs, still keeping himself at distance.

Trevor shrugs his doublet off his shoulders and sits in the middle of the only bed in the room. He sets his discarded garment on the edge of the wooden tub they used to bathe, still filled with dirty water.

He can hear his own heartbeat in the silence of the night, and with slight embarrassment he realizes that probably Alucard can too.

Minutes go by with the two of them staring at each other from opposite sides of the narrow chamber, Trevor feeling anxious and naked and Alucard looking debated, guilty of unspeakable crimes.

“Adrian,” Trevor says, at once. He’s chewing the inner side of his cheek and only wants this tension to be over. “Stop thinking about it and just do it. The sooner it starts, the sooner it will be over.”

The vampire’s golden eyes gloss over when hearing his given name, but he is quick to blink the subtle weakness away. 

Slowly, he steps to the bedside, standing right in front of the hunter. 

From up close and without any coat on, his thin white shirt looks like a mess of bloody stains.

Tilting his chin up, Trevor is met with the fascinating sight of Alucard’s downturned face framed by blond curls, glimmering eyes burning on him.

Delicate hands are placed on Trevor’s naked shoulders, slightly cooler than his own temperature. Gently, they slide up the hunter’s neck, almost a loving caress, and bury in the hair at his nape. 

Goosebumps appear on his skin, but Trevor refuses to break eye contact. 

The vampire slowly leans down, giving Trevor plenty of time to push him off or move away in case he changed his mind. He tilts his head to the side - the eerie kind of aura radiating from him making Trevor very aware of his looming presence - and soft golden strands tickles the hunter’s naked skin. The feather-like touch is shortly followed by another delicate contact, skin against skin, as Alucard leans his forehead and  nose in the crook of his neck.

Trevor gulps down the knot tying his throat, the position they are in feeling suddenly intimate, like something only lovers would do.

“It shouldn’t hurt, I promise,” Alucard whispers, his breath fanning the hunter’s ear.

Trevor exhales shakily, mostly grateful for the warning - his bruised ego could very well piss off. 

He keeps very still, giving the vampire silent permission.

He feels Alucard’s lips graze his neck and the pleasant sensation seems so out of context he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Next, those lips open up in a wet kiss - and Trevor is familiar with those, but  _ damn _ ! 

When the pain comes, it still manages to take him by surprise, even if a part of him was waiting for it. It’s nothing major, just a persistent sting, very similar to being cut superficially by a blade. 

A burning sensation blossoms around the pain as Alucard starts sucking, heating his skin up like flames. It gradually spreads from Trevor’s neck to his face, his chest, his arms and the rest of his body. The next second he is left breathless, a jolt of lightning running through his body followed by the most pleasant sensation Trevor has ever experienced. It’s better than alcohol or drugs, but somehow very similar, dulling his senses and drowning all the tension and the preoccupation. 

The pain vanishes completely, leaving Trevor to ride the pleasure wave, his breath hitching. It’s like his body is being overstimulated, any kind of physical contact, even the friction between the material of his trousers and his legs, amplified ten-fold, sending shivers down his spine.

Then, as abruptly as it started, the hot, pleasant sensation disappears.

Trevor opens the eyes he doesn’t know when he closed, and all he can see is  _ gold _ . 

It takes him a minute to become aware of the hot, willing body in his lap and of the lips still kissing along his neck. 

He has a hand buried in Alucard’s hair, he realizes, head still dizzy, and the other is sliding up and down a toned thigh.

Blinking his eyes lazily, his body buzzing in the aftermath of pleasure, he delicately tugs at a soft, blond strand, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see Alucard’s face.

The vampire does nothing to resist his gentle coaxing, lolling his head backward in Trevor’s palm. Under the hunter’s gaze, his eyes change from glimmering red to warm golden, lashes fluttering heavily. He looks as dazed as Trevor himself feels, resembling a fine, tempting doll with red lips.

“Holy damn,” the hunter chuckles lowly, because,  _ well _ . Of all the outcomes he expected out of having his blood sucked, this one probably didn’t even figure on the list.

Alucard shifts slightly, closing his eyes and arching his back with abandon, and Trevor didn’t know it up to this moment but he is very aroused and very ready for whatever is coming next.

Starved for more contact, he tilts his head down and runs his lips along Alucard’s offered neck, the man in his arms sighing, gently rocking back and forth.

Tha pale skin of the vampire has warmed up, looking mouth-watering and very human like. Trevor lays a kiss there, earning a soft noise, then slips upward under the shell of an ear, feeling the vampire’s heartbeat under his own lips. He retreats then, eager to see the ecstatic expression on Alucards face again, lips still hovering at kissable distance.

When the vampire opens his eyes searching for him, the honey of his irises is almost embed in blackness, pupils blown wide.

“Oh hell, no...” Trevor murmurs, an inconsequential nonsense expressing the confused mix of emotions stirring within him. He leans down and kisses the vampire anyway, incapable to control the burning need, feeling as though he is eating from a forbidden fruit.

Alucard’s lips are soft and full against his own and, for a second, Trevor keeps very still, savoring the heat of the contact. 

He hears Alucard’s breath catch and moves his lips tentatively, waiting for some reaction. It takes just a little of gentle coaxing for the other to answer the kiss, both of them sighing as the contact deepens.

The unnatural sense of dizziness and euphoria coming from the bite is gradually disappearing, leaving room for Trevor’s rational mind and his inherently human desires.

Alucard’s mouth tastes like snow and like blood. Consciously, the hunter realizes he is supposed to find it off-putting, disgusting even, but he’s not thinking anything of the sort as he forces the tantalizing lips wide open, the vampire submissively craning his head to favor him.

With or without added endorphins in his system, he still wants this. And it’s a liberating awareness, because this is what it was since the beginning, all the tension and the intensity between them.

The vampire’s incisors feel razor-sharp as Trevor leisurely laps inside the other’s mouth, one hand sliding behind Alucard’s back, running up the curved spine. 

Alucard rocks his hips and bites down on his bottom lip without piercing the skin, and Trevor finds he is turned on by the threat - _which_ _is_ _not_ _surprising_ , _really_.

Cradling the vampire in his arms, he shifts backwards on the bed to make some space, then lays the sinful body down on the straw mattress. 

He lowers over him, chasing those red, addictive lips, sinking his hands in blond curls.

Alucard’s endless legs automatically fall open to accommodate him, willing mouth meeting him halfway. 

In this new position, with their whole bodies pressed together, Trevor can clearly perceive he isn’t the only one deeply enjoying their passionate rendezvous.

Desire tingling in his veins, he lifts himself up on his right elbow, looking down at the sultry creature laying under him with abandon. 

The vampire is gorgeous, his doll-like face unusually unguarded, eyes two liquid pools of gold, red lips parted. There is some color dusting his cheeks, made even more obvious by his snowy complexion.

Breathing raggedly, Trevor sneaks his free hand under the dhampir’s thin shirt, gently caressing heated skin and toned muscles. 

Alucard’s lids flutter closed and Trevor cannot hold back anymore and leans down to suck on the exposed collarbone, moving his hips in tentative little thrusts, rubbing their groins together. The vampire makes a soft little noise, squirming under him, his thighs squeezing Trevor's hips. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a curse in a language the hunter doesn't understand.

Trevor smiles against the patch of skin he sucked raw, his wandering hand travelling lower, cupping the bulge pressed against his own. 

Alucard hisses at that, his pelvis bucking up and one hand tugging at Trevor’s rebellious strands.

“This is stupid, whatever it is,” the vampire whispers, the last word drawled into a sob as Trevor presses his hips down again. 

The hunter retreats slightly to peer at the other's face, curious. 

Alucard needs a second to suck in a breath before murmuring “I am a vampire and you’re a vampire hunter. And--”

“--We’re likely both gonna die very soon.” Trevor finishes the familiar sentence for him, a sly smile on his lips.

Alucard makes a face that is a funny mixture of amusement and outrage and Trevor chuckles, bowing to kiss a flaring cheek. 

“ _ This _ is called sex, by the way,” he adds on in a purposely naughty tone, trailing kisses to the vampire’s pouting lips. “And it’s  _ not _ stupid.”

Alucard sighs but kisses back.

They separate with a wet kissing sound, Trevor still hovering very close, nudging his nose against Alucard’s.

The vampire keeps his eyes closed, evidently making an effort to steady his ragged breath.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers, doing nothing to elude their proximity. “It’s different for my keen. We usually do….And you--” 

Trevor shuts him up with an ardent kiss, forcing a feral, keening sound from the vampire’s throat.

He then distances himself to peer into golden eyes, their neglected erections still pressed together, and smiles at him tenderly.

“Adrian,” he uses his given name with purpose, but he also really likes the sound of it. “If you want me to stop, you just have to tell me.”

His voice is hushed, thickened by desire, but he is being one hundred percent honest. He knows he wants him - he craves him even - but he’s not going to force himself on anybody.

Alucard's eyes flash at him, still darkened by desire. 

“You know I am not going to say that,” he breathes, fingers curling possessively at Trevor's nape, caressing his scalp. 

Almost purring in delight,Trevor leans closer.

“Have you ever done this before?” he inquires softly, caressing down Alucard’s chest.

The vampire breaks eye contact, shaking his head.

“Nobody wants a half-breed,” he whispers, his voice almost sounding like he thinks it’s only legit.

A pang of sadness and anger mixes with Trevor’s excitement and the hunter presses himself down harder between Alucard’s legs, holding him tight and kissing him deep, leaving both of them breathless.

_ Their fucking bad _ , he cannot help but think, the vampire looking and feeling mind-blowing in his arms. 

He never had the pleasure of having someone’s first time and the idea of being Alucard’s makes him inanely nervous, butterflies taking wing in his stomach.

“Do  _ you _ want this?” He needs to be sure.

Alucard kisses him so hard it bruises, arms around his neck, thighs squeezing him closer.

Trevor gasps for air in the loving embrace, fire ignited in his belly once again. 

_It’s_ _answer_ _enough_.

He sneaks one harm behind the vampire’s back, keeping him arched, increasing the friction between them.

When they pull apart, they are both breathing harshly and smiling like stupid, but among all the things he will be damned for, Trevor is pretty sure he won’t regret this.

Moving carefully on the narrow mattress, he pushes himself into a sitting position, both his hands caressing down Alucard's sides and stopping at his waist.

“Clothes off,” he commands, all in a sudden feeling very impatient for what’s about to come.

Alucard sits up and helps him to remove his shirt, both of them later focusing on unbuckling their own belts and sliding off their trousers.

Naked, they spend a moment taking in each other's appearance and,  _ Goddamnit _ ,  if Alucard isn't one of the most beautiful creatures Trevor has had the pleasure to see... 

“Enjoying the view, Belmont?” 

Alucard’s teasing voice snaps him out of his trance and Trevor pushes the bastard down on the mattress, answering the playful grin with one of his own.

He caresses down the smooth, pale chest, unmarred except for the diagonal, pinkish scar the vampire’s own father left there. 

Alucard’s delicate hands - smaller and more tapered than Trevor’s - reach out to the hunter’s abs, languidly moving upwards, curiously inspecting every ridge.

Trevor hisses when the gentle fingers meet a particularly nasty bruise marring his lower ribs - an unfortunate consequence of not having superhuman healing abilities like vampires do. Alucard sits up and kisses the sore spot, lavishing the skin with attention, and there’s something intimate and tender in the gesture that makes Trevor’s breath hitch.

Cupping the vampire’s face with a palm, he bows to steal a kiss, then tugs the other man closer by the waist, bringing their naked bodies together.

Alucard makes a small sound as they start moving, answering the kiss like his life depends on that. 

All Trevor can do is sneak one hand between them, gripping and stroking both their erections as they rut together like the teenagers they are not allowed to be. 

Encouraging him, Alucard spreads and bends his legs, making room for him, one of his arms wrapping around the hunter’s shoulders.

Trailing his lips from the vampire’s lips to his neckline - elegant and unrealistically smooth - Trevor dares shifting his caresses lower, his hand wandering between Alucard’s thighs along a hairless perineum, pressing and stroking there.

The creature in his arms moans and raises his hips, tugging at a tuft of his hair.

“You will need some lube if you want to get in there,” the vampire murmurs, and the tone is breathless - yes - but also weirdly informative, so Trevor raises his face from the crook of the vampire’s neck to curiously peer at him.

“So you know how it works,” he taunts mischievously, hips pressing down and fingers probing for entrance at the same time, causing Alucard to grunt.

“I did some scientific research on myself,” the vampire says rather proudly, and Trevor has to snort a laugh against Alucard’s neck, his body shaken with giggles. _Sure_ _as_ _hell_ _this_ _is_ _the_ _fanciest definition_ _for_ _masturbation_ _he’s_ _ever_ _heard_.

After pressing a kiss to the skin there and one to the vampire’s parted lips, he lifts up in search for something he can put to use. The herbal ointment he applied to his own cuts after the bath is conveniently at reachable distance, so he snags it from the unsteady bedside-table, efficiently unscrewing the cup. 

He takes his time working his partner open; it’s been a long time since he had the occasion of being intimate with someone, and he rarely had the luxury of foreplay.

When Alucard starts sweating, breathing harshly and moaning quite frequently, he finally decides his own dick deserves some attention and sits back on his heels to slicken himself up. 

Alucard is a panting mess sprawled under him, disheveled and wanton, eyes fallen half mast. Nevertheless, there is still fire in the irises regarding him through blond thick lashes, almost challenging him, beckoning him closer.

Trevor smirks, hovering over him, gripping narrow hips with possessive hands. He hopes that his cocksure appearance will cover up the emotions coiling within him as his lover’s legs wraps around him, pulling their bodies flush together.

The vampire’s gaze is so intense that Trevor cannot break eye contact, almost hypnotized.

He kisses him on the lips innocently, sharing his breath as he rubs his cock against the slickend hole. 

Alucard’s lashes flutter and his lips part more when he breaches him, the dhampir’s fingers clutching the covers tightly.

Trevor tries to be gentle and waits it out, gripping a toned thigh and holstering it higher, so that the knee is pressing against his ribcage. He thrusts further with his hips, gritting his teeth not to moan, attention focused on the perfect face of the vampire.

Alucard exhales and groans, his eyes finally closing, head lolling to the side.

_ That’s it _ , Trevor thinks, lowering to kiss under the exposed jawline.

He takes some time to pull himself together, the mind-numbing pleasure from the tensed muscles enveloping him.

He starts rocking his hips experimentally, hoping to distract and relax his lover, and apparently it works just fine. Alucard’s body starts following his movements, the stiffness gradually melting. One of the vampire’s hands makes his way to Trevor’s back, gentle fingers stroking along the outline of old, raised scars.

To be a newbie, Alucard is pretty quick to get the gist of the whole thing - probably a little too quick for Trevor’s sake - and shortly he is rolling his hips tantalizingly and meeting Trevor’s thrusts, his toned thighs encouraging the movement and one talon pressing down on the hunter’s ass. He looks like he is born for this, to drive men crazy with lust and desire, and maybe he is, because if Trevor was to be mauled to death right know he surely won’t oppose any resistance. 

The hunter lifts himself up on his elbows, smiling - because _fuck_ _it_ _feels_ _awesome_ \- and he knows he’s inevitably going to make a fool out of himself very soon. 

Alucard’s eyes open up to glance at him attentively and Trevor cups that beautiful face and traces his thumb along parted, bruised lips, exposing an abnormally long incisive. 

Alucard grins at him deviously - _damned_ _vampire_ , _why_ does _he_ _have_ _to_ _be_ _so…_ \- and tilts his head to kiss his palm, playful eyes boring in his.

Trevor has to fight against himself really hard to push back the looming orgasm, clinging to the poor dignity he still has and would like to keep - _thank_ _you_ _very_ _much_.

Planting his knees onto the mattress, he distances himself a bit more, one hand sliding through blond strands and the other blindly seeking for his lover’s hard cock - because if Alucard wants to play hard, then hard he will get. 

His thrusts and the messy strokes turn out to be far from coordinated but they seem to get the desired result as Alucard cries out, back arching unconsciously, pre-come wetting Trevor’s fingers.

Trevor has barely the time to cheer inwardly for his small victory, because Alucard tugs him down with surprising strength, kissing the living daylights out of him. 

Stumbling down awkwardly, Trevor can only play along, pouring himself into the kiss and then hissing as the vampire pulls his hair not too gently, exposing his neck.

And then he is being bitten, pain and scorching pleasure shooting into his system, and he comes so hard he forgets how to breathe.

 

The morning after, Trevor wakes up alone in the crummy bed, half covered with a stingy woolen duvet. Probably, if it wasn’t for the dry semen on his skin and the double set of puncture wounds adorning his neck, he would have thought his memories a dream. 

As things stands, with very vivid images of Alucard coming undone in his arms impressed in his brain  _ forever _ , Trevor’s first reaction is facepalming hard because -  _ damn _ \- he probably fucked up.

He doesn’t regret the sex, obviously. It was awesome and, based on what his mind and his body remember, he would gladly do it again.

But Alucard is not around and clearly there are hidden consequences behind what they did together last night. Consequences a certain vampire doesn’t seem overly happy to face.

Forcing himself to get out of bed, Trevor proceeds to put on his clothes, raising the collar of the doublet as high as it goes to hide from sight the bites on his neck. He doesn’t have a mirror in the room, but judging the dull pain radiating from the mauled area they are probably bruised and very visible - _like_ _hickeys_ , his mind stupidly provides -  and the last thing he needs is Sypha asking inconvenient questions about their origins.

His stomach growling noisily, he then trudges into the adjoining room, where Sypha is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book in her hands.

“Look who came back from the dead!” she greets him with a warm smile, her pretty head tilted to the side.

He grunts a good morning, feeling unusually conscious of the sorceress gaze upon him.

“Are you hungry?” the girl offers providentially, her cheerful tone completely unaffected by his grumpy morning mood. “I asked the innkeeper to leave some porridge for you.”

Trevor is not a fan, really, but the mere idea of food sounds awesome at the moment. 

He spots the wooden bowl in question on a dusty chest separating the two beds, and sits down on a mattress with it on his thighs, feeling like a kid receiving a birthday present.

“Where is Alucard?” he mutters nonchalantly after some time, mouth already full and another spoonful of oatmeal hovering in front of his lips. 

Sypha raises her eyes from the book she resumed reading, her gaze lingering on him as he inelegantly chews. 

“He went back to the Belmont hold to see what’s going on.”

She grimaces as Trevor fills up his cheeks even more, half bent over the bowl of cereals like a starved animal.

“He said you were in need of some rest and we both found it a pity to wake you, one of the few times we were so lucky to sleep in a bed.”

Trevor shrugs, chugging down a mouthful of the food.

“I could have gone back with him,” he says, meaning it, then pauses to think about it.

“Why did he need to get back, though?”

He feels like he's missing a piece of information.

Sypha’s face lightens up, her lips curling in a foxy smile, chin slightly tilted upwards in pride.

“Theoretically, I managed to bewitch Dracula’s castle, convincing it to stay in Craiova for the time being,” she confesses, as if it was nothing. 

_ “Mwht!?” _ Trevor utters around the last spoonful of his breakfast and Sypha chuckles softly at the face he is making.

“When did this happen?” he asks, genuinely thrilled at the news. 

“Shortly before the vampires attacked us yesterday. The spell seemed valid right after I cast it, but we didn’t get time to stick around and see if the effects lasted.” 

She pauses, definitely closing the book in her lap.

“So Alucard said he would go back and check in the enchanted mirror if the Castle was still in Craiova. If it’s still there after it sensed my magic intruding, then it’s safe assuming I have it in my grasp.”

Made sense. Except for the fact that, if the vampires who attacked them had some common sense, they had surely returned to destroy whatever was left of the Belmont’s hold, definitely sweeping away centuries of detailed knowledge on how to hunt down their keen. 

“Plus, I wanted to know if my protective spell was working,” Sypha murmurs, distracting him from the melancholic speculation.

His curiosity peaked, the hunter shifts to the edge of the mattress, peering down at Sypha’s galvanized expression.

“...protective spell?” he prompts, receiving an over-excited nod as an answer. 

“Yeah,” she confirms happily. “I attempted to make your family legacy physically undestructable--”

Trevor doesn’t know why, but a potent wave of happiness and relief washes over him at the sorceress’ words. On the spur of the moment, he leans down and tugs her close, needing an outcome for his overwhelming feelings of gratefulness.

Sypha squeals in his arms then giggles heartedly, returning the embrace as good as she can from her uncomfortable position on the ground.

“Is this a hug, Trevor Belmont?” she teases him with a fakely scandalized tone, her open palm drawing circles between his shoulder blades. 

“I am not sure which drug you did last night but, given the outcome, you should definitely do it often!”

Trevor’s breath hitches at the bad wording, his cheeks spontaneously catching fire. If Sypha notices the color of his face when they part, luckily she doesn’t mention it.

It’s full on day outside and despite the cold temperatures it stopped snowing, the sun shining in the azure winter sky.

Trevor knows very well that Alucard is only a half vampire, but he cannot help being worried.

 

He wakes in the middle of the night, eyes blinking sleepily in the semi darkness as something pulled him from his dreamless sleep.

The room is completely silent save for Sypha’s regular breathing pattern and it takes Trevor a minute or so to spot a tall silhouette resting against the wall, a pair of glimmering golden eyes focused on him.

Trevor grunts, cursing himself for the increased tempo of his heartbeat. He rolls over, back on the mattress and a forearm covering his eyes, wondering when it became normal for him to be awakened at every hour by a dysfunctional vampire.

“Man, you are such a creep,” he mumbles under his breath, his voice roughened from sleep.

“C’me here.” 

Weird enough, Alucard obeys, moving in the shadows without making any sound. He crouches at Trevor’s bedside, his face more visible in the moonlight filtering from the grimy window.

Trevor peers at him from under his arm, somehow relieved the vampire looks unharmed and in his usual good shape. The damn bastard had been wandering around on his own the whole day, only God knows doing what.

“Do you need to feed?” Trevor asks, knowing how much sunlight weakens vampires.

Alucard denies with his head. He slides the coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.

Trevor’s eyes almost fall out their sockets in shock as the vampire silently crawls in bed with him, straddling his waist with those long, powerful legs.

The hunter doesn’t move but gives him full attention, looking up at Alucard with a questioning gaze, waiting.

His heart is a booming staccato as Alucard slowly leans down, tilting his head and kissing him softly on the lips. 

He kisses back automatically, eyes focused on the attractive features, noticing stupid details like how Alucard’s long lashes touch his high cheekbones when his lids are closed.

The whiff of a wet tongue traces his bottom lip teasingly and Trevor’s resolve to stay put goes down the drain in a millisecond, his own eyes closing as he opens to the contact. 

His hands slide up toned thighs, appreciatively kneading the muscle, then grips narrow hips with bruising strength, the vampire sighing into the kiss.

Trevor smiles against the tempting lips focused on tormenting him, playfully bucking his pelvis to see if he can unbalance the other or at least force a sound out of his throat.

The sound comes, muffled but needy, like liquid sex, and Alucard starts moving his hips in time with Trevor’s small thrusts, riding him lazily from above the covers.

It is probably one of the sweetest tortures inflicted upon Trevor in his lifetime so he firmly believes he cannot be blamed when he starts wishing for more, his body reacting to the provocation.

In a swift move he pushes against the vampire’s side, unbalancing him and hauling him down to lay on the mattress, back against Trevor’s chest.

The hunter hugs him tightly around the waist, keeping him in place as he moves blond locks out of the way, searing his lips against the pale skin of an elegant neck.

Alucard’s breath catches and he pushes back against him, craning his head to give him more room, so Trevor rocks his hips forward, letting him know how much he appreciates this new, unexpected closeness between them, and he bites down on the snowy flesh, hard.

The action is feral, possessive and partly meant as a revenge - even if Trevor will never admit that - but is rewarded with such a cute little whimper that the hunter seriously considers doing it again. He laps at the marred skin to soothe the pain, trailing kisses up to the vampire’s earlobe, their bodies finding the perfect rhythm to gently rock together.

“You know this is kinda kinky, right?” Trevor whispers in the shell of an ear, amusement and excitement mixing into his tone.

He focuses his gaze forward, over Alucard’s shoulder, barely making out Sypha’s sleeping form in the bed a few meters from them.

The vampire makes an amused hum. He turns his head to kiss Trevor’s temple and it’s so tender that Trevor closes his eyes, his face growing hot, fingers curling in the material of Alucard’s shirt.

“Am I so good that you cannot keep quiet?” the vampire whispers mockingly against his skin, clearly trying to mess with him. 

Trevor finds himself smiling like a fool and he is only partly heartened to feel a mirroring grin pressed against his cheekbone.

“I wasn’t worried about me,” he mutters, adrenaline running through his veins at the promise of what’s to come.

He slides both his hands down, caressing the bulge in his partner’s tight pants, then working to unbuckle his belts.

Alucard’s hand trails gently through his hair, the vampire half twisted in the embrace, mouth coming dangerously close to Trevor’s throat.

Trevor almost holds his breath in anticipation as he lowers Alucard’s pants, grabbing a handful of round asscheek and sinking the other hand between the vampire’s thighs, teasingly palming a sleek erection. 

He’s rewarded with a pleased hiss, Alucard pressing his ass backwards, grinding against his lap.

As things get heated pretty quickly, Trevor finds there is something weighing on his chest that he must dislodge before getting on with this  _ thing _ , even if he doesn’t know why.

Hiding his face into Alucard’s long hair and feeling slightly insecure and out of place all in a sudden, he mutters 

“Will you run away again?”

It’s barely a whisper, but it’s the best he seems able to muster.

The vampire must have heard it because Trevor catches a soft exhale and feels the warm body in his arms turn very still.

The hand that was playing with his hair slides sensually down his neck, following the contour of his shoulder and caressing down his arm, stopping midway to hold the forearm where it is, wrapped possessively around Alucard’s waist.

“I cannot run from myself, Trevor  _ Christopher _ Belmont,” the vampire confessess, and Trevor releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He is not sure where or when Alucard apprehended his full name, the name that is an elegy to the father he doesn’t have anymore, but he supposes he has only to blame himself for spoiling the “Adrian” trick.

 

“There is something you’re not telling me,” Sypha casually says as they are setting up camp close by the Galeşti lake. It’s late afternoon, the sun already starting to set behind the tallest trees of the forest, and they stopped for the night only because they are too exhausted to keep on walking.

Trevor raises his eyes from where he is arranging a few branches in an elementary cover and peers over his shoulder at the sorceress’ inquisitive expression.

“Who, me?” he asks, not exactly liking where the questioning seems headed.

“Yep, you,” the young woman confirms, her azure eyes burning on him. “...And also the other one with the fangs.”

The hair on Trevor’s arms stands and now he’s fairly sure he won’t like what Sypha is going to say next.

Alucard has disappeared into the woods not so long ago, attempting to hunt them something to fill their growling stomachs with, so Trevor and Sypha are conveniently left alone for at least the next half an our. The hunter can only curse his bad luck.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he quietly lies, hoping to dodge the conversation, his expression neutral and his body language relaxed. “I haven’t noticed anything strange.” 

The perk of being the last of a disgraced, persecuted dinasty is that, out of necessity, Trevor has become really good at lying with a straight face.

Sypha regards him with severe, intelligent eyes, a little spark of amusement dancing within them.

“Don’t try to pass me for stupid, Belmont,” she admonishes, looking like a fox in the process to jump on its prey. She circles around him, coming to stand exactly in front of him, looking down at him despite the height difference.

She is a small little thing, really, thin and also very cute in Trevor’s opinion, but she still manages to make the hunter feel cornered, at the mercy of a dangerous predator.

“As if I wouldn’t notice the way Alucard looks at you!”

Trevor raises his eyebrows, thinking that, _ well _ , maybe during the little stunt he pulled with the vampire a few days ago at the inn, they weren’t as quiet as they thought they were being.

“Like he would like to eat me?”  he jokes and Sypha actually laughs.

“In a way,” she concedes, shoulders still shaken by giggles. She forces herself to calm down, the smile lingering on her lips as she focuses back on him, affection in her eyes.

“But seriously, Trevor. He's a child for his keen's standard. Children are not able to mask their longing very well.”

It's sort of a surprise. Trevor had thought Sypha was fucking with him, taunting him with some unreal happening convenient for her case, but behind her cheerful demeanor she actually sounds deadly serious about it.

Trevor frowns, a foreign, warm sensation spreading in his chest.

_ So does Alucard really think about him that way? Does he seriously look at him like he is something precious and to be treasured? _

“This is bullshit,” he says, a flicker of what he could only define as panik rocking his stomach. “I think you are seriously imagining things over there,” he dismisses her.

Rolling her eyes, Sypha huffs, looking exasperated.

“Fine, Trevor Belmont,” she yields, sounding suspiciously like a mother giving in to her son's tantrum. “Let's do it your way and pretend that nothing is happening and it's all in my head!” She gestures vaguely with her arms and then Trevor has to dodge an accusing finger jabbed in his direction. 

“Let's act like the bite marks on your neck are just a figment of my overactive imagination and as if I don't catch you and Alucard cuddled together in sleep more often than not.” 

She stops for a second, something buried apparently coming to her mind. “God, the prissy vampire didn't even bother with sleep before he started cuddling with you!” her voice reaches a pick.

Trevor can feel his face on fire.

“The point is,” she resumes, pinning the hunter to the ground with a displeased, knowing glare. 

“Whatever you think you are doing, Trevor, I beg you: try not to do anything stupid, at least this once!”

Pure embarrassment is eating at Trevor, making him wish he could melt on the spot. He understands where Sypha is coming from, though. 

_ Trevor likes danger. _

He’s lost everything once and he is afraid of any commitment that isn't alcohol. He doesn't have particular love for anything, not even for himself, and he is very bad at dealing with expectations. His emotions are a mess.

Alucard is a friend and a precious ally; it’s only legitimate for her to worry.

Under Sypha's anxious scrutiny, he can only lower his eyes, feeling vulnerable and broken, well aware that she is able to see his real face behind the mask of indifference and his biting sense of humor.

The sorceress seems to know she hit a sore spot, because she walks to him quietly and cradles his face in her palm in a tender caress. Trevor looks at her, then, taken aback and insecure about what to say, but she only smiles at him gently, her eyes full of understanding.

After that, she gives him space and resumes her position by the fireplace, neatly piling small logs and bark to light up a fire.

“Ah, for the record,” she says, giving him her back and not bothering to look over her shoulder.

“You look at him the same way. Only difference is that you do it when you think no one's watching.”

So that’s how it is.

_ Holy fucking bloody shit.  _

Without even realising it, he’s already in neck-deep.

 

Bathed in the oblique rays of the afternoon sun, Alucard is breathtaking. 

Sitting on a hay bedding, his back against an abandoned barn, Trevor cannot tear his eyes away from the creature straddling his thighs. 

It’s their last stop before reaching Craiova and, from their advantaged position on top of a lush hill, the hunter can already spot the outline of Dracula’s castle looming beside the city.

They decided to rest a bit and attack at dawnbreak, taking full advantage of daylight.

Sypha has gone to the nearest settlement, a few houses and a little church spotted on their way up here, hoping to find someone to entrust with her memories.

Trevor knows that the time has come and that he probably should be worried. He’s thankful Alucard’s presence keeps him distracted.

The vampire has his eyes on the horizon, Trevor’s furry cape wrapped around his shoulders and nothing underneath.

In the pale winter light, Alucard’s hair and his complexion make him look like a statue carved in pure gold.

The improbable combination of biting and sex has quickly become a secret routine between them - to Trevor, actually, more like an  _ addiction.  _ He yearns for him, always. It's honestly embarrassing.

Unable to keep his hands for himself, the hunter reaches out to stroke through a soft blond lock, absentmindedly dividing it in sections and intertwining them together with nimble fingers.

Alucard’s attention shifts on him, his head tilting to the side. 

“You can braid,” he says softly, sounding genuinely surprised.

Trevor once had a little sister and liked to help. He doesn't mention it, though.

“Sypha knows about this,” he says instead, he doesn't know why. 

Alucard's face shows all his confusion. Trevor thinks it's cute and hates himself for it. 

“She knows about us,” Trevor specifies, diverting his attention from his handiwork to lock eyes with the vampire. “She says it’s pretty difficult not to notice.”

Trevor had planned not to tell. Giving voice to something like that, acknowledging that something is going on between them, would have made it more real. He had kept his mouth shut after his conversation with Sypha on the lake shore, pretending it never happened at all. 

It was easier like that, he thought.

But in the last few days Alucard’s presence both in his arms and in his head has become impossible to ignore. And Trevor is really good at lying, but not at lying to himself.

Furthermore, his fear of commitment seems more and more trivial each passing day and especially today, when Trevor could shift his gaze to the left and spot the fortress where he’s going to face death tomorrow.

Alucard’s fine eyebrows raise, perplexity still playing on his features.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks, and Trevor smiles, cursing inwardly. Alucard has become worryingly good at reading him.

“Because if she could guess it, maybe other people will,” he says casually, but it’s a half-truth.

He resumes the braiding process, the sensation of soft hair sliding against his skin managing to relax him, the action keeping him grounded.

Alucard is awfully quiet for a while, but Trevor can still perceive those golden eyes studying him.

“Do you regret it?” the vampire’s question prompts him to raise his gaze. Alucard looks serious, his usual mask of coolness plastered on the perfect face. With growing wonder, Trevor realizes he can now see the cracks of it, spotting the emotions deftly hidden underneath. He notices the way the corner of Alucard’s lips is downturned, the tension in his spine and the slight trembling of his breath. 

A wave of affection warms up Trevor’s body, constricting his chest.

An unstoppable smile curling his lips, he holds the vampire around the tapered waist and abruptly rolls him over in the hay bedding.

Alucard clearly didn’t expect this, his face scrunched up in a mixture of surprise and outrage as he looks up at him with reproaching eyes. Trevor has to choke down laughter, but he lowers to touch his nose with the vampire’s, his hands sliding up and down Alucard's sides where he discovered _the_ _almighty creature is ticklish._

“Do  _ you _ regret it, you ungrateful human-sized mosquito?” 

He tries to fake delusion, but it’s actually impossible to hide his amusement.

Alucard’s eyes go comically wide for a second and then he starts laughing, wiggling and squirming to get away from Trevor’s hold.

The hunter laughs too, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t sound fake.

He finds himself supine on the hay bedding before registering what happened, a very naked and very gorgeous Alucard keeping him down with super-human strength, pinning his hands above his head. 

Gone is any trace of tension from the vampire’s body, honey colored irises glimmering and a sly smile exposing white, razor-sharp fangs. He bows to touch his nose with Trevor, mirroring the hunter’s action when positions were reversed, then sits up in Trevor’s lap, looking down at him with warm eyes.

“Of course I don’t regret  _ us _ ,” he says, releasing his hold on Trevor’s wrists.

He looks honest and smitten. Trevor has to close his eyes for a second.

“Also, I don’t mind other people knowing that I belong to you.”

Trevor looks up and  _ oh, fuck _ . He probably shouldn’t have.

He sits up with a contraction of his lower abs, fighting the persistent sensation of being punched in the gut - but in a good way.

“Do you belong to me?” he asks teasingly, hiding how much the statement affects him, pretending he’s not fighting the knot tying his throat.

“Yes,” is all Alucard says.

Trevor’s heart is beating so fast it reminds him of trotting horses and he knows Alucard can feel it too, but neither of them comment on it. He’s grateful for the silent understanding .

“So it’s decided, then,” Trevor jokes, because jokes are safe and make him feel in control. “I guess tomorrow we’ll have to tell your father about this. Isn’t it the polite way to go about these things?”

Alucard snorts and his grin is priceless.

“I think he might have a stroke over the fact I gave my heart to a Belmont,” he plays along, but Trevor can’t hold back anymore and kisses him breathless.

“No offense, but I kind of hope so,” he  murmurs against the bruised lips, swallowing the clear sound of Alucard’s laughter.

As things stand, they might die tomorrow, but today they can kiss each other’s fears away.

  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> CANON: ...so Trevor and Sypha fall in love and end up together.  
> ME: aw cute, but no thanks!
> 
> I know I am quite late to the party (as per usual), life has been hectic lately, but I couldn't refrain from writing some more adventures and character developement for this disaster trio. Castelvania season two on Netflix was unexpectedly good, but you know. Could always be better ;)  
> So here's my humble version (which I am totally unapologetic for despite the crazy wordcount lol).
> 
> If you want to babble about Castelvania with some crazy vampire, hit me up on the blue bird @kleinerteufel16 or tumblr (the land of puritanesim!) @ herja-k. Or well... leave a comment down below :D  
> Feedback is super super welcome and warms my old heart.  
> Hope you enjoyed the ride!
> 
> Trivia:  
> -I searched everywhere for our heroes dates of birth and came up empty-handed except for the fact that, allegedly, Trevor and Alucard are born the same year (1456). So you are left with my headcanons, with Adrian ironically being the pup of the gang - I like to think him born in the winter, November or December. And my Trevor being only slightly older, being born in February. That makes him already twenty during the series (which should go from January 1476 - one year after Lisa Tepes was burnt at the stake - to presumably March-April of the same year). Since Sypha appears to be slightly more mature than the other two teenie I like to think her twenty one, even if, from her relationship with her grandfather, she could as well be younger.  
> \- The Castlevania Series is overall impressive for the span of time, the characters, the places involved, but the information given to the players seems to leave a lot to the imagination. Therefore, more liberties about the location of the Belmont Hold and the ruins of the Manor. I placed those somewhere close to Sinaia, a medieval city still in Wallachia but close enough to Transylvania (and the still existing “Dracula Castle”) to be interesting. I can only hope my historical accuracy doesn't suck.  
> \- “Did people do drugs in the middle ages?” was one of my google researches for this story. “Do dhampirs even sweat?” was going to be one too, but then I thought ‘screw this’ and arbitrary decided they do.


End file.
